The Branded Rainbow Swordsman of the Desert
by Epona64
Summary: Ah, the perfect way of describing Stefan, he's a Branded, he wears the rainbow, is a swordsman and lives in the desert! Hasn't anyone wondered what happened to make the eccentric desert hermit the way he is today?
1. Prologue: Hating Father

_Hey, look, another new story! I know the last thing I need to be doing right now is starting another project, but inspiration for this hit me suddenly, and I didn't want to lose it._

_Can't really say much more, only thing is that I hate the shortness of this... I couldn't even get it to 1,000 words... Oh, well, It's a prologue, and they are typically short anyway. Oh, I also apologize for the violence towards babies here, but it is necessary for the plot, you see._

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Prologue: Hating Father

The wind whispered quietly as it blew across the Begnion night sky. In the central region of Seriola, east of the Miscere river lay a quaint village known as Tsena. In the outskirts of the small town was a modest cottage, much smaller than all the others set further away in the main village square. Inside, the cries of a newborn child rang out, piercing the quiet air. As the midwife left the home hastily, the parents looked down at their first child with silent disappointment. They watched as the still damp child slipped into a deep, peaceful slumber in an old battered crate filled with ragged blankets and cloth.

"How could this happen?" the mother moaned quietly, looking down at the newborn sleeping tranquilly before her. "How could he be...?"

The infant's bright green hair was longer than most other babies', but not long enough to hide the small mark on his forehead. The small, complicated design traced on the young boy's new skin marked him as one of the most despised beings in the known world—a Branded, half-breed, parentless; countless names society has come up with to describe the unholy child of a Beorc and Laguz.

The boy's father held his wife at length and looked down at his son with a mix of anger and sadness, his violet hair falling into his face.

"There is only one explanation..." he mumbled, turning his gaze up to the mother.

The woman looked up after pausing to let her husband's words sink in, "No! No, I didn't. You know that I would never..."

"Well, what do you want me to think, Sorcha? He's... one of _them_. I know that no one in my family has ever associated themselves with one of those wretched beasts."

"Please Neal, you know I love you and would never leave you for a La—sub-human..." Sorcha whispered, pulling closer to her husband.

Neal said nothing and continued to look down at his son resentfully for a few moments.

"I am capable of forgiving you for this one lapse of judgment. This time, we made a terrible mistake. We can always try again to bear a son worthy of the family name." Neal took a step towards his son and pressed his hand across the baby's face, covering his mouth and nose.

"Neal! No!" breathed Sorcha, rushing forward to stop the death of her son.

She pulled at the stronger man's arms without any results. Growing desperate, Sorcha opened her mouth and bit down on the arm covering the infant's face. Neal shouted in pain and rage, pulled his hand back and slapped Sorcha roughly, sending her tumbling to the hard wooden floor. The baby had woken up now, and his sharp cries echoed in the small room. Sorcha looked up at her husband, her emerald eyes watering and a large red spot marking where she had been struck. Neal bore his navy eyes into her body, his gaze unable to express the hatred coursing through his veins.

"You can keep your filth, but I want nothing to do with him, or his worthless whore of a mother!" Neal shouted angrily, his loud footsteps shaking the humble cottage as he made his way to the door, slamming it behind him.

Sorcha sank further to the floor and wept, her sobs blocking out the cries of the newborn.

After what seemed like hours, Sorcha pushed herself up from the dusty ground and leaned over the makeshift crib heavily, tears still streaming from her eyes. She gently lifted her baby up and held him against her chest.

"I don't know how such an innocent child could be presented with such a heavy burden," she whispered quietly, preparing to feed her child, "but it doesn't matter what you are, you are still my baby. I will love you until my dying day and beyond, no matter what others say or think. I promise you, Stefan; you are worth no less than any other Beorc or Laguz in all of Tellius."

As baby Stefan ate loudly, his mother kissed him gently on his forehead, her lips temporarily covering the intricate design traced upon it. With a small grunting noise, Stefan reached up and wiped his mother's lips from his head and continued to eat. Sorcha smiled and petted his messy green hair lovingly, her own emerald locks hanging over her face, covering her pine green eyes.

Neal never came back. He left Begnion forever, leaving his wife and disowned son to live on their own. Sorcha taught his son not to hate his ancestry, rather embrace it and not become one of the many self-hating Branded that inhabited the continent. The others in the village could care less if Stefan hated himself or not, they despised him with every piece of their being for sharing the blood of a 'sub-human'.

They found out early on what Stefan was even though Sorcha tried her best to keep it a secret. But once the midwife who delivered Stefan told everyone in the village about what Sorcha's baby was, the two quickly became outcasts. They never seemed to belong after that, but Sorcha knew that someday Stefan would defy the odds stacked against him and become much more than any of the short-sighted racists surrounding them could ever imagine.

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_Yay, Stefan! Boo, Baby abuse! Yay, End of Prologue! Boo, shortness!_

_I promise the next chapter will be longer than this, and that I will keep working on my other stories too. Just not in the mood for other things, I suppose. _

_Anyway, please don't just favorite or alert if you like it, leave a review too! I would prefer one review to three favorites/alerts any day. Better way to show that you like a story, really.  
_


	2. Spiteful Children

_Ooh, look, another chapter! It's longer than the first even! Yaay!_

_Anyway, this takes place when Stefan is about six years old and looks a little bit younger than he is._

Chapter 1: Spiteful Children

Long after the sun rose over Tsena village one day, the humble streets began to fill with the shouts and cries of the younger residents. Out of one home in particular crept the boy that was considered the leader of the youths of the small town. Mido stretched his arms lazily over his head as he wandered from his abode and waited for his usual crowd to find him. Mido's seventh birthday had passed three months past, and he was proud to be the oldest of his circle of friends. He had dark red hair, bordering on being brown with streaks of lighter red running through it. His skin was tanned from the many hours he spent outside everyday and his small arms held more muscle than others his age.

As the group came together, Mido paused to think for a moment about what today's activities would comprise of. First, they would wander the town to find someone new to ridicule as Mido had grown bored of his former target--a small, fat boy whose name was Yiggen Forosoe. Mido had come to call him Piggen Fatso. The children of the village had gone after poor Yiggen for more than a month straight, constantly calling him his nickname and tricking him into eating treats laced with a local plant known for its laxative properties. But even the fun of watching Forosoe scarf down the pastries hungrily before running home uncomfortably grew old for the children, though none of them dared to tell Mido.

Making fun of others never ceased to amuse the small boy; he thought he was pretty good at it too. He had made more children cry or wet themselves than any other in the whole village. Mido figured that was why the kids joined in with him so readily; no one wanted to be at the receiving end of Mido's insults. The adults could care less what Mido said to them--he was, after all, only a child.

_Colin, Beth, Uli, Rusl, Telma, Shad, Auru, Fado... _Mido ran a list through his head of possible replacements for Piggen, none of them seeming entertaining enough. A scowl on his face, Mido ran out to the nearby woods to think harder, as a nearby cat-fight was keeping him from thinking clearly. As the horde of boys reached their favorite clearing in the forest, Mido's mood brightened instantly when he saw a lone figure sitting on the special sitting rock, looking at the trees intently.

The first thing Mido noticed was the length of the boy's bright green hair. Mido stopped and motioned for the mass behind him to be silent as he thought out how he could hurt his next target. The green-haired boy had yet to notice them, and Mido wanted to take full advantage of the element of surprise. Seeing nothing strange or wrong with his target other than the length of his hair, Mido decided to go with the trans-gender approach. After giving a signal for the boys to wait where they were, Mido crept forward to the sitting stone where his victim sat unaware.

"Hey!" Mido shouted suddenly, causing the green-haired boy to tumble off the rock. "What's your name?" Mido asked, stepping up to his target who was pushing himself off the ground.

The boy paused and patted dust off the dirty rags tied around him before looking up at the much taller Mido, saying nothing.

"What's wrong with you, huh? Can't you talk? Or are you too stupid to know how?" Mido sneered, shoving the small boy to the ground again.

Still saying nothing, the green-haired boy stared up at Mido, not daring to stand up again. Mido was starting to get angry; his target was a mute! How could Mido make fun of him if the idiot didn't understand a word he said? Mido kicked dirt at the boy and began to walk away, motioning for his gang to follow.

"I-I'm not stupid." a small voice called out after the retreating backs of the boys, "I'm... Stefan."

A wicked grin spread across Mido's face; now, the fun would _really _begin!

"Well, _Stefon, _why's your hair so long, huh? Do you _want _to look like a girl?"

"I-I..." Stefan stuttered, not knowing what to say.

Mido thought to himself quickly. _What would be a good nickname for this new meat? Stefan... how could that be a girl name? Stefin, Stephene, Stephina...No, no, none of these could work..._Then, Mido realized the perfect name and quickly spread the love out throughout the entire population of village boys.

"You should change your name to Stephanie!" Mido shouted, relishing the laughter emanating from the boys behind him.

The gang leapt forward, circling Stefan quickly, chanting his new name over and over again, and shoving him around the ring roughly. Mido stood on top of the magical sitting stone and laughed over the noise of the chant. Right away, Mido could tell that Stephanie would provide weeks of entertainment. Chuckling merrily, Mido leapt inside the circle and in front of their victim, not slow to notice the dampness showing itself in the small boy's eyes.

"What's wrong, Stephanie? Ohh, is the baby going to cry? Why don't you go cry home to your mommy, huh?" Mido wiped his eyes, faking tears as he continued, "Waah! Waah! I'm Stephanie, I'm girl who has long hair like a girl has!"

The laughter surrounded Stefan, locking him into a seemingly endless round of torment. His lower lip quivered, and a single tear fell from his eye. Mido was satisfied. With a final laugh, he waved for the other boys to follow him out of the clearing; not before shoving Stefan to the ground one last time. They left the small shivering boy to cry silently as they drowned out the sound with their own laughter.

After that, the day went by as normal; the group chased the dogs around, skipped stones and play-fought with their stick-swords. Mido strode home a happy boy, whistling as he stepped inside the door. It was dinner time, and the sweet aromas of the coming meal reached Mido's nose and his stomach growled hungrily.

Dinner was set out and the family began to eat, with the children taking their turn to tell the others about their day. Mido, being the youngest of the four children, went last, deciding to start with the story about Stephanie.

"Yeah, we found this weird kid in the hideout today," Mido began, eager to tell his story, "his name was Stefan, and he had really long hair, like a girl!"

It took the small boy a moment to realize that the entire table had fallen still.

"Did you say... Stefan?" Mido's mother asked slowly.

"Well, yeah." Mido answered, a little nervous, "At least, that's what he said his name was..."

"You stay away from that boy." Mido's father said gruffly, "He's... not normal."

"What's wrong with him?" Mido asked, forgetting about being nervous and becoming intrigued instead with the possibility of new ways to ridicule Stefanie.

"He's got filthy beast blood in him." his father said flatly.

"If you go near him, the goddess will punish us for his sin." Mido's mother whispered, collecting the dinner dishes and leaving the table.

After the kitchen was cleaned and everything was put away, the family began to wind down before the day ended. As the children lay down in their beds and settled down for a relaxing night of sleep, Mido's mother sat down on her youngest child's bed.

"Please, Mido," she whispered, tucking the blankets around her boy, "leave that boy alone."

Mido nodded in understanding and curled up under his blanket as his mother blew out the only lanterns lighting the boy's room. Of course Mido had no intention of leaving Stephanie alone—no, he had decided that the small, green-haired boy would give an even better time than Mido had anticipated. Thinking fondly of the coming day, Mido soon fell into the soft embrace of sleep.

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Stefan ran home soon after the boys had left. He was met with Sorcha's worried arms that petted his hair softly and listened as her son told of how he had been bullied earlier that hour. When he was done, Sorcha sat him down in front of the large box that served as a table and pulled a stale loaf of bread from the dusty cabinets nearby. As she cut both of them a piece, she did her best to comfort her son.

"It's not your fault." she said in a calm tone, bringing the hard slices of bread to the table and handing one to Stefan. "I don't know whose fault it is, sweetheart, but it isn't yours."

The two ate in silence for a few minutes.

"Next time one of those boys decides to call you a name, just remember that everything they say isn't true. Next time they want to call you stupid, laugh at their stupidity. They don't understand a word of what they say. All of them are short-minded fools who wouldn't know compassion if it slapped them in the face with a dead fish."

Stefan snickered quietly as his mother stood up and swung her arms wildly, pretending she was whacking one of the 'short-minded fools' with a fish. Laughing, Sorcha lifted Stefan up, swinging him into a soft hug.

"Now," she said, still spinning in light circles around the small room, "whenever someone says something that is meant to hurt, you just imagine them getting slapped with a fish, and laugh at _them_. Soon, they'll find out that no matter what they say, they can't hurt you and they'll stop. Do you understand?"

"I understand!" Stefan shouted happily, flailing his legs in the air as his mother spun.

"Good. Now, I have to stop spinning before I fall down!" Sorcha said, gradually slowing her twirl and setting Stefan down on the ground.

The two stumbled around the house, still laughing as they tried to keep their balance. The rest of the day seemed to fly by, and soon Stefan was lying on the small mat spread on the floor of the pitch-black room that what had been Stefan's nursery. Sorcha took the thin blanket and gently spread it over her son who wiggled excitedly under the sheet. As his mother lay down next to Stefan, he scooted up next to her and kissed her cheek softly. Sorcha smiled and patted Stefan's head.

"G'night, hun." she whispered.

"'Night, mommy!" Stefan said happily, only moments before he fell asleep.

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_Oh, how I love the end of this chapter... Hope you liked it too! _


	3. Malicious Beating

_I have been working on this _forever_! For months, this has been sitting almost completed on my computer, begging to be worked on. By the time I finally got around to finishing it, I had changed my mind on what would happen later, so more editing was needed. And yet, here it is, the next chapter of Stefan's biography! Yaay! Hope it was worth the wait!_

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Chapter 2: Malcious Beating

He loved sunrises.

He loved the way that the glowing orb of the sun would force the shadows of night back, bringing the light of day with it. Darkness' battle with dawn would create explosions of color from the horizon, painting the pallet of the sky brilliant shades of red and yellow. It was during these precious few hours that Stefan truly forgot about his life, forgot about all the ridicule he faced in the coming day, the impending hunger if he couldn't work. Yes, dawn was the best time of the day, Stefan decided, the time before anything bad could happen.

Stefan sighed as the sky above gradually settled from its xanthous hues back to its usual azure color. As he slowly rose from the stone he was sitting on, the branded boy brushed his lime green hair from his eyes and glanced around the forest contently. The willow he sat under made a small room with its drooping limbs, creating a small haven surrounded by lush green. With another tranquil sigh, Stefan began walking down the thin path towards his small home, not in that too much of a hurry.

Yellow shafts of light flickered through the continuously shifting layers of leaves attempting to shield the forest floor from the rays of the sun as the lone boy reached the mid-way point of his hike. The cool morning air was beginning to warm slightly, and the dew-coated greenery was releasing small clouds of fog.

The trees pulled further from the path as Stefan's cottage came into view, its two small windows broken and replaced with worn cloth. Sorcha stood in the empty doorway, a warm smile on her face as she watched her son emerge from the woods. She rubbed her fingers through Stefan's hair as he came to the doorway and walked with him inside.

As her son sat down in front of the crate, Sorcha rummaged through the few cabinets that were not broken as she always did, fully aware that she wouldn't find anything inside. With a heavy sigh, Sorcha sat down at the makeshift table, resting her elbows on its splintered surface.

"I know I ask you this every day, honey," Sorcha said softly, "but are you sure that you want to go to the village? I mean, we both know how these people are..."

Stefan smiled and looked over at his mother. "If I didn't do what little I _do _do, we wouldn't have any money at all. Though not many people want to hire... people like me, even less want to hire a woman."

Sorcha knew the truth of her son's words and ruffled Stefan's messy hair with a soft laugh. "Mmm. I suppose you're right." She pulled her son into a warm embrace. "But please, if anyone..." Sorcha sighed, "Just come home if you need to, alright?" She released Stefan from her hug and brushed his hair from his forehead to reveal his brand.

Sorcha gently kissed the brown design before patting Stefan on his back to send him on his way. She couldn't help but worry about her son whenever he went to the village; she knew that Stefan never told her everything that happened while he was out. Perhaps it was better that way.

As he made his way out the door, Stefan scooped up a small, tattered bag and slung it over his shoulder. As he closed the worn door behind him, the branded boy scanned the small clearing briefly. The cottage was completely surrounded by trees with only two thin paths going between the green. One led to the village, and the other led away from Tsena, to the west. With a low sigh, Stefan shifted the bag on his shoulder and began walking down the path towards the village.

By the time the green-haired boy reached the town, all of the children would be in school, and Stefan would not have to worry about them as he worked at the small grocer's stand. As Stefan reached the stones paving the streets of Tsena, the people were bustling to claim the best lots along the street to display their wares.

As the thick layer of squabbling merchants began to thin, the street was suddenly plunged into shadow. Glancing up, Stefan was greeted by the huge, castle-like building of the church, the monolithic structure boasting its superior size compared to the other cottages of Tsena. Looking back down and hastening his step, Stefan hurried past the dark wooden doors that seemed to dare anyone to open them.

Though he didn't know what would happen if he ever got caught outside the holy building, he wasn't willing to find out. Stefan knew very well what the head priest, Ulriah told the entire village about him and his mother, blaming the two for any and all misfortunes that befell the town. Whether failing crops, foul weather or a sick child, the bishop pointed towards the Branded boy and his mother as the source of the problem. According to him, Ashera was angry for the villagers allowing such a blasphemy to reside on the earth, so she was punishing them for their foolishness.

The menacing shadow of the church shrank back and Stefan relaxed somewhat. Something about that place made him nervous, like somehow it was more of a threat than simply a stack of stones.

The street was all but empty now, with several early morning shoppers leaving their homes and heading to the calming market. Most of them walked on the opposite side of the street as Stefan, though one finely dressed man made a point to bump Stefan roughly in the shoulder as he passed. It wasn't surprising of course, as everyone in the village knew of Stefan and what he was. Ulriah had made sure that all of Tsena either feared or despised him.

Though, as with every rule, there were exceptions. One in particular was the owner of the grocery store, Tengo. Tengo's warehouse was the only place Stefan could find work, stocking his shelves before opening every morning. There was only one rule--the Branded had to enter through the back door, and leave the same way before opening. Stefan understood why this was, as if anyone discovered that he worked there, Tengo would be out of business, since no one would want to shop at a place tainted by the presence of beast blood.

Slipping into a dark alleyway, Stefan reached into his bag and pulled out a worn pair of gloves, one of the few things his father had left behind. Though they didn't quite fit, the old rags worked better than nothing to protect Stefan's hands from the splintered crates and rusty nails he handled then unloading Tengo's orders. As he reached the end of the alley, Stefan saw Tengo standing outside struggling with a large crate full of fruit, appearing ready to drop it.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, his several layers of chins vibrating excitedly, "Stefan m'boy! Mind coming and giving me a hand, this is 's heavy as a horse!"

Sliding his bag off his shoulder with a smile, Stefan quickly took the crate from the struggling grocer, giving the fat man a chance to rest.

"Ah, thanks for that," Tengo panted, wiping sweat from his gooey brow, "Oh, but let me get the door for ya, that thing must be breakin' your back!" he opened the door and stepped aside to allow Stefan through.

"'t's not that bad." Stefan murmured, placing the fruit on the front counter inside the store.

"Aye, maybe for you," Tengo whispered to himself, "Don't know what I'd do without ya, lad." he continued, his log of an arm patting Stefan on the back, the waves of flesh wiggling accordingly.

Stefan quickly unloaded the entire cart parked in the dark path in the back of the store, finishing long before it was time for Tengo to open his doors. Finished for the day, Stefan was rinsing his hands of any stray wood shavings in a shallow tub when Tengo plodded up to give him his pay for his work.

"'ere ya go, Stefan." he said thickly, handing the Branded boy a small pouch.

"Thank you Mister Forosoe," Stefan said, packing the money carefully into his bag along with his gloves.

Waving his employer farewell, Stefan slid out the back door and made sure to wait until he was a fair distance from the store before emerging from the dank spiderweb of alleyways crisscrossing the town. Happy to have money in his pocket, Stefan was heading home to give the gold to his mother who was the only one able to get any shopping done at all.

The street was crowded now not only with merchants, but with their customers as well, leaving the Branded to weave through the people. After several minutes of unforcefull pushing through the mass of people, Stefan finally emerged on the other side of the market, near the outskirts of the village.

The next few minutes were the most crucial of the expedition; sometime in the next couple of mintues, school would end and Mido and his gang would be roaming the streets once again. If nothing else, Stefan wanted to avoid the group of roguish 'friends'.

The line of the forest was sliding closer, and Stefan had just made it to the comforting green of the forest when the single word that he never wanted to hear again echoed from behind him.

"Stephanie!"

Those three syllables summed up years of torment that the branded boy had endured every time he left his small home. Stefan turned reluctantly towards the voice, sighed and let his shoulders droop slightly as the wave of boys rushed from the stony labyrinth of buildings, Mido at the head, swinging a carved branch haphazardly. Quickly, Stefan pulled the small, jingling pouch from his bag and hid it as best he could with his hand.

"How dare you show your filthy face in this town!?" Mido spat, sheathing his practice sword in a mock scabbard as he stood in front of Stefan, having to look up slightly to see his face.

Stefan said nothing, but continued to examine the grass beneath his feet with dulled interest. Mido took a step forward and pushed Stefan back roughly, immediately drawing the branded teen's eyes to his attacker.

"I asked you a question," Mido said, seizing Stefan's shoulder suddenly, "What are you doing here?"

From behind the leader, the other boys called out in support of Mido's actions and a couple even lifted loose stones from the ground.

Stefan looked at Mido from behind the hair brushed across his face. "I was on my way out."

"What were you doing in the town anyway, huh?" Mido snarled, shoving Stefan again.

"Nothing you need to worry about." Stefan murmurered, closing his hand tighter around his money.

Mido ripped the bag from Stefan's shoulder, tearing the strap as he flung it out onto the soft grass Stefan narrowed his eyes as he watched the sack of fabric crumple to the ground. A loud laugh drew his attention back to the boys, who seemed to find the bag's predicament quite amusing.

"What are you going to do now, filth-blood? Huh? Are you going to run back to your mommy and cry?" Mido's words were echoed of by the boys behind him.

"Yeah, you just run back home to your cave, you dirty monster! Leave us pure-bloods alone!" a small boy from behind added.

"Aye, go back to your beast-lover of a mother!" Mido shouted over the other various insults being thrown at the branded boy.

Stefan's teal eyes snapped to Mido's brown. "What did you say?" he hissed.

Sensing that he had hit a weak point, Mido elaborated. "You heard me. I called your mother a dirty, beast-loving whore!"

The entire group erupted into fresh gales of laughter. But everything suddenly froze when Stefan reached out and grabbed Mido by his shirt collar, grinding his teeth menacingly.

"_You_," Stefan's words were thick with the hatred that had been building up inside of him from all the years of torment he had endured. "You can make fun of me all you want; call me names, insult me, throw stones, what ever makes you happy." the fist holding the trembling red-head in front of the branded shook slightly. "But don't you _dare_ drag my mother into your sick games! If you mention her one more time, I will wring your neck, do you understand?"

Mido, in obvious shock that his usually timid and quiet target was acting so violently, simply shook his head in agreement. After a few more moments of staring his bully down, Stefan threw Mido back into his group of boys and turned to leave, his money still in his shaking palm. The boys were still flinging whatever insults they thought of at the back of the Branded.

Then, suddenly, everything went silent.

Just as he began to turn to see the cause of the sudden silence, something collided with the side of Stefan's ribs knocking the wind out of him, and sending the green-haired boy to the ground. As he hit the soft earth, Stefan released the bag of coins in his hand. Gasping, the Branded tried to push himself up, only to be struck again in the back, forcing him back down. Stefan managed to roll over only to see Mido standing over him, practice sword in hand, getting ready to swing again.

With speed unknown to him, Stefan rolled to the left, barely avoiding the thick peice of wood as it reached the end of its arc. But that avoided only one problem; all of the other boys, empowered by thier leader's boldness decided to join the one-sided fight, and Stefan rolled right into the path of one kid's foot, catching the Branded on the side of the head.

There was nothing he could do now, and Stefan was at the mercy of the gang surrounding him. Luckily, Mido soon noticed the abandoned pouch of gold, and lost interest in the curled Branded. Once completely sure that he was safe, Stefan cautiously stood, holding his side loosely. Slowly he picked his bag up and limped into the trees beckoning his with their cool green branches.

With a low moan, Stefan paused as he passed a small creek running to the Miscere river and caught a glimpse of his reflection. His face was smeared with dirt and blood trickled from his nose and the corner of his mouth. Carefully kneeling on the stony banks of the tributary, Stefan splashed the cool water on his face, making sure to wash off all of the blood.

Satisfied that he was clean, the Branded lifted his bag again and hobbled the rest of the way to his house, straightening up once he had reached the clearing, not wanting his mother to know what had happened. Barely resisting the urge to hold his side, Stefan walked into the door and dropped his bag in its usual place. Glancing up, Stefan saw his mother standing expectantly in the doorway, her arms crossed behind her back.

"So, were you able to get anything?" she asked, clearly wanting to get the money issue out of the way early on.

"Uuh, no." Stefan lied softly, "Mister Forosoe didn't need my help today."

"Aw, that's too bad," Sorcha said, her hidden excitement almost showing through her calm facade, "Do me a favor, honey; close your eyes and hold out your hands alright?"

With a small smile, Stefan silently obeyed. He heard his mother squeal softly and a smooth weight placed onto this outstretched arms.

"Open them!" Sorcha sang, no longer needing to hide her elation.

Once more, Stefan willingly obliged, relatively surprised to see a thick square of dusty blue fabric in his position.

"I've been working on this for months!" Sorcha explained as her son unfolded the fabric, revealing a blue robe, with yellow designs sewn along the bottom hem and the sleeves and orange and yellow stripes running along the edge where the garment opened up. "I saved a little bit of money each time you worked and was able to buy the fabric from one of the tailors in town!"

Stefan slid his gift on carefully and Sorcha examined the fit. "Mmm, it's a bit big, but that just means you can wear it for longer!"

The Branded boy wrapped his arms around his shunned mother, temporarily forgetting the pain of his side, and instead stood lost in the warm affection of the only person who truly cared for him. They would live for years, needing nothing more that each other to survive; living in the shadow of the great church squatting menacingly in the village not even a mile away.

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_Hopefully, the next chapter won't take nearly as long as this one did to be published, but I can make no promises. Reviews inspire me to update sooner, though, so if you like this and don't want to wait two months for me to continue, review!_


	4. Misguided Murder

_Ah, it's been four months since I last updated this, bleh... Well, this was another chapter that sat half-finished for quite a loong time, it did. And though I've had it planned ever since I started the story, it's changed far too many times for me to count... Oh, but look! It's really really long!  
_

_Enough of that, though! You don't want to read my blatherings, you want to read the chapter that took four long months to get finished, of course!  
_

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Chapter 3: Misguided Murder

Many people have said that things get better with time. Just give a problem a day, a month, a year, and things will always find some magical way of fixing themselves. Of course, a great many know that that isn't always true, and in fact, time can just make things much, much worse.

For nearly two decades, Stefan had managed to live a relatively peaceful existence. Almost twenty years had gone by before the region of Seliora had the worst autumn harvest for more than a century. People everywhere were starving, and the other regions of Begnion had nothing to spare. Of course it was a natural occurrence, something that no one truly had any sort of control of, save the goddess herself, but people are never fond of believing that…

The day was like any other had been, and it seemed ever would be; sunrise, a meager meal if any at all, then the lone Branded of Tsena village slipped on his blue cloak over the browning clothes he wore normally and went off to work for the town grocer. The trees along the path running from Stefan's home to the village proper shivered in the wind, their leaves rustling with agitation and providing an overall feel of unease to the usually peaceful forest.

Finding enough food had become even harder since the fields went bad, but going to bed hungry wasn't something that was new to either the Branded or his mother. In fact, to Stefan at least, it seems as if there were no other ways to live.

Tsena slowly came into view from behind the green and brown of the trees, the town all but asleep for the time being. Being all too familiar with the path, Stefan wound through the alleyways of the town, avoiding the main roads if he could help it. He noticed a group gathering in front of the church, something that normally wouldn't be odd, but for some reason… that congregation in particular seemed off in a way that the Branded couldn't quite name.

Within only minutes of entering the village, the grocery's back entrance came into view, along with the owner, Tengo Forosoe, sitting on a creaking crate, sighing and shaking his head.

The fat man's eyes widened behind the sheets of excess skin at the sight of the Branded approaching, "Stefan? Wha' you doing 'ere?" The Branded opened his mouth slightly to answer but Tegno cut him off, "Ah, ya' 'ave ta get out of 'ere, m'boy. Ya' need ta run as far away from thi' place as fast as ya' can. Quickly no'!"

"What?" Stefan's teal eyes leapt from the man to the door behind him, almost expecting someone else to come out of it, for Tegno to be talking to them, not him.

"No time ta explain, Stefan. Ya' need ta ge' out o' 'here before they find ya'!" Tengo stood up as quickly as his girth would allow, a bit unsteady on his feet as his layers settled, "They 'ave an excuse now, m'boy! They'll kill ya' sooner than look at ya' if you're seen! Don' give 'em that chance, 'urry now!"

Understanding slowly sinking in, Stefan turned slowly from the man, unsure of what exactly to do.

"Stefan, wai'" The man took a few steps toward the Branded, then stopped abruptly, "I… I'm gonna miss ya', boy. Don' let any o' them filthy murders get ta ya, alrigh'?"

"I…"

Forosoe's trunk of a neck vibrated as the man turned his head suddenly to the side, a faint noise echoing from the village. "Ah, not much time left no', ya gotta leave!"

Perturbed by the grocer's sudden urgency, Stefan began to wander slowly back home, unsure exactly of whether he should believe the man or not. He got his answer as he passed by the church through an alley and dozens upon dozens of voices suddenly cried out. Curious, the Branded went as close to the noise as he could, Tengo's strange warning still on his mind.

It was the crowd he'd seen gathering in front of the church only a few minutes before, now a much larger mass of wailing women and shouting men clumped together in front of the mission's steps. Ulriah, the head priest stood at the doors of the immense building, several other clergymen gathered between him and the mob in front.

The man was speaking, shouting rather, towards the townspeople, the group slowly growing as the commotion spread throughout the village. Ulriah's words reverberated throughout the entire village, reaching the lone Branded standing in the dark alley.

"…been cursed by a famine, brought about by the goddess herself! She is punishing us for our insolence by making our children go hungry!" the crowd roared agreement, "We all have but one thing to blame for our families' starvation! The witch of the forest and her demon spawn!" another uprising of acknowledgement, "Because of them, our fields have gone sour; our crops have nothing to grow in, our herds nothing to graze on! In order to receive Ashera's blessings and save ourselves and our kin, we must remove these abominations from Her sacred land!" the priest clasped his hands together, giving the crowd a moment to have their angry cheer, "Who then, will take up arms and rid our fair town of those disgraces?"

Stefan pressed his back against the cool stone of the building, not bothering to look at who was volunteering for his and his mother's murder. The voices fell back into his mind, a constant roar adding to his already jumbled thoughts. Would they really go so far as to kill them? Blaming two innocent people for a disaster of nature wasn't right, wasn't it? Why… why would they blame him? Stefan had nothing to do with the villages' doings if he could help it, he knew how the people there felt about him, whether he understood why or not. But, suddenly, the fat grocer's warning made such horrifying sense—if he stayed in Tsena, he would be killed.

The crowd's cries doubled in volume suddenly, and the sharp sound of several galloping horses rushed by. Thinking back, Stefan noted how lucky he was not to have been spotted standing in the center of town by the dozen or so men who rode by, minds set only on slaughtering him and his meager family. Not pausing to ponder the possibilities, Stefan bolted further into the alley, running back to his home as quickly as his legs would take him, careful not to be spotted by any townspeople on the way.

In the back of his mind, the Branded knew that the ones he was trying to beat to the small cottage in the woods were on horses, and that he had no hope of getting there before them, he kept running anyway. He had to do something. He was responsible for this, perhaps not in the way the villagers believed, but he would not have his mother—the only one who'd ever loved him despite his blood—die simply because he lived. The landscape suddenly flashed from brown and grey to lush, vibrant green as Stefan reached the trees, still

_Sorcha sat alone in the small, nearly empty room of her home, humming to herself while looking out the little window that lay in the kitchen, the opening letting in a meager square of green light into the otherwise dim room. Her only son had left only minutes before, and she only had a vague idea of when he may be returning._

_As such, she was only mildly surprised when she heard someone walking across the creaky wood of her dwelling. _

"_Stefan? You home already?" she called, her voice pronounced against the sudden silence. _

_There was no response…_

"_Is that you?" there was the slightest quaver of fear and apprehension in her voice, so imperceptible, in fact, that one could only hear it if they were listening carefully for it._

_The woman was about to call out again, but was stopped suddenly by a dark laugh pervading the room, "Ah, your filth-blood won't be coming back, I'm afraid."_

"_W-who are you?" Sorcha stood slowly and took a step towards the archway of the kitchen carefully, "Did you do something to—"_

"_You need not be thinking about your _son_'s__ fate, wench," a young man with mahogany hair spun through the opening, leaning against the wall casually, "In fact…" a smile worked its way across his face, "You won't have to think 'bout much else in only a moments' time."_

_Sorcha's eyes flickered for a brief instant to the man's side, jumping across the thin sword sheathed there. The boy's intentions clear, the woman began taking slow steps back, her hands raised as if to defend herself from the inevitable. _

_Everything happened suddenly after that; there were flashes of green and brown, the two shades caught in an angry dance for only a moment before an abrupt flare of lethal silver convoluted all the colors, all the sounds into a spiraling vortex of warm crimson..._

…_Slowly, ever so slowly, everything descended peacefully into the cool darkness of pure nothing…_

Stefan burst into the small clearing where his home was located, the rustle of leaves and his heavy breath the only sounds as he scanned the clearing, not slow to notice the horses dotting the area, grazing silently. Just as the Branded took a cautious step forward, a single figure emerged from the doorway of Stefan's home. Both young men froze and looked each other over briefly.

"Mido." Stefan hissed lowly.

"We've been looking for you." Mido said quietly, taking a step forward. The other men slowly emerged from the surrounding trees, making a lopsided ring around their leader and the Branded

Stefan backed up a pace and watching the others carefully out of the corner of his eye, "What did you do to my mother?"

"Oh, I wouldn't worry 'bout her if I were you," Mido murmured, looking down at the blade in his hand, the silver metal painted with lines of wet blood, "Gutted the worthless pig m'self." The other men laughed lightly, as if Mido had just told a particularly funny joke.

Stefan watched as a grin slowly worked its way across the murderer's face, not quite comprehending the man's words. It did not take long, however, and with an angry roar, the Branded rushed at Mido, intent on finding some way of killing the smirking man despite his skill with a blade. Mido waited until Stefan was directly in front of him before skipping lightly to the side, allowing the Branded to run past him. As Stefan turned around one more, he was met with Mido's sword pointing dangerously at his throat. The orphan did not dare to move, but settled with glaring at his attacker, his teal eyes burning.

"You know," Mido said, slowly bringing his blade up to Stefan's throat, "I could kill you right here where you stand." He tilted his head to the side and smiled wider with a laugh, "But where's the fun in that? That filthy whore was hardly worth the time it took to slit her vile throat."

Stefan growled and swatted the sword aside suddenly. He lunged forward, but Mido slid out of the way once more, swinging his sword at Stefan, un able to stifle another laugh when he felt the steel cutting through not only the fine blue fabric of the Branded's cloak, but the flesh on his back as well. Stefan gasped as a searing line of pain whipped down and across his shoulder, severing the right sleeve of his robe. Stefan tried to push himself up, but a kick caught him in the side, rolling him over. The edges of his Stefan's vision started to darken. He almost welcomed it as a distraction. Mido planted his foot on the Branded's shoulder, pressing his fresh wound into the dirt and pinning him down.

"Ah, none of that now." Mido chuckled darkly, "I'll tell you though, I'm feeling particularly generous today, so I'll do you one little favor, yes? I will give you thirty seconds to run wherever you want," Mido dug his heel into Stefan's shoulder, "but after that, we're coming after you," he gestured to the men behind him, "D'you understand?"

Shaking with pain, rage and fear, Stefan nodded.

"Good," Mido took his foot back, "Now run filth-blood. Your life depends on it."

As soon as he was free, Stefan slowly stood once more, the sleeve of his robe slipping to the ground and warm blood dripping down his back. Not daring to retrieve the scrap of fallen fabric, Stefan backed out of the clearing, watching the dozen or so men wearily. He cast one last glace at his home—knowing that his mother's body lay somewhere inside—before turning his back and disappearing into the green of the forest.

Once Stefan was out of sight, one of the hunters turned to Mido, "You're not really giving him that much time, are you?"

With a low laugh, Mido shook his head, "Of course not," he motioned to the man beside him, "Shall we, then?"

…

…

The only sound Stefan could hear as he ran were his pounding steps, harsh breathing, and the green whistling by him in a blur, the trees nothing more than smudges of green and brown. The Branded leapt over roots and ducked under limbs, surprising even himself with his skill in dodging the thick forest. His back throbbed with every stride, warm liquid still oozing from the wound and leaving an occasional drop on the leafy foliage as he ran.

And then, he heard the sounds of other behind him, hooves ripping up grass and moss, shouts between men and the whinny of horses through the leaves. He couldn't die here, not now. Sorcha may have already been killed, but… Stefan was scared. He feared the blades piercing his body, the life draining from him like water from a cracked bowl. He was too young, he'd never left the village, hardly had any time to get his life started, he wasn't ready to—

Stefan heard the thin whistle before he could comprehend what it was. The next instant, the sudden pain of metal entering his body went through him again, this time from a single arrow piercing his shoulder. The unexpected shock was enough to buckle the Branded's still moving legs, and he collapsed, sliding to a rough halt in a small clearing, snapping the shaft of the bolt in two jagged halves. His breath coming in pained gasps, Stefan reached for the shard of wood and metal remaining in his back, yelping when he touched the projectile and another wave of fire coursed through his body.

The hunters and their mounts took up nearly half of the glade that Stefan had fallen in. The trees parted to create small paths, one to the east and back to Tsena, and one to the west, away from the village. The Branded had his back to the trees, the western path to his right, and the eastern path and the men in front of him.

Mido leapt off his tawny horse nimbly and sauntered the last few feet separating himself and the Branded, kicking him once more in the ribs. Stefan groaned and rolled on his back, despite the arrow still embedded in his shoulder. Mido's smile broadened as he planted his foot on the Branded's chest once more.

"You ready to die, filth-blood?" Mido laughed darkly, his sword flashing dangerously in the forest light.

Stefan only looked up at his pursuers, unsure whether to fear his coming death, or to accept it. He closed his eyes and tried to slow his frantic, agonized breathing, though he knew it wouldn't make a difference if he was relaxed or not—a peaceful man's death was the same as an unsettled one's for all the Branded cared. Mido grinned and stood over Stefan, sword held out at his side proudly.

"You've no idea how long I've wanted to do this… _Stephanie,_" He laughed again, "I have to admit though; you were_ much _more entertaining than your wench of a mother."

Stefan only grimaced as his wounds shocked him once more, but did not dare open his eyes to watch he felt the lethal tip of Mido's sword coming to a rest on the hollow of his throat. He heard Mido laugh once more before the cool steel vanished from Stefan's awareness, and he knew that it was time.

However, rather than the searing pain of metal once more entering his body, Stefan heard an icy feminine voice he did not recognize call out, "Stop."

The toneless voice's demand was simple, and Stefan opened his eyes to see the deadly point stopped inches from his torn robe, lingering within killing distance as its owner looked across the clearing to see the one who dared interrupt his makeshift justice.

There were four girls standing in the yellow-green light flitting in through the leaves, all nearly identical in appearance. Their eyes had the slightest hint of a slant in them, and their faces were both long and round, both narrow and wide. The girls' skin was much darker than any of the Tsenens, appearing as if they'd all spent much of their lives under the heat of the sun.

Though they all looked like duplicates of each other, the four girls each wore their long black hair differently and long, flowing cloaks of varied shades. The one on the far left had her hair flowing freely down her back, the ebon river drifting over the deep purple fabric that made her clothing while the one next to her preferred to keep her locks in a tight braid trailing like a twisted tail down her odd orange—almost blood-red—cloak. The third's long ponytail washed down her midnight-blue clothed shoulders as she glanced briefly at the final girl, her leaf-green garb making her two dark pigtails stand out even more as their owner nearly blended in with the scenery behind her.

None of them seemed like they had made it past their first decade in life, but their matching violet eyes betrayed their true lifespan to be far more expansive than their small bodies indicated. In their right hands, each of the four girls held healing staves, the jeweled tips nearly level with the top of their black-sheathed heads. The four children stood side to side formed what appeared to the Tsena men the least-threatening sort of barrier possible, and despite the anxious snorts from their horses, several of them scoffed as the girl with the violet cloak took a small step forward.

"You would do well to release him," She said flatly, her young voice low with dark confidence, "if you all wish to leave this place with your lives intact." Her eyes swooped slowly across the line of men still on their horses, flicking briefly to the silent Stefan at Mido's feet.

"Oh, we would, would we?" Mido laughed, obviously unnerved by the sudden appearance of the four children. He motioned to the mounted archer behind him who pulled an arrow from the quiver on his back and notched it slowly, "That's not going to happen, sweetheart. We need this bastard dead, see? If he gets out of here alive, our entire town will starve. Besides, if you knew what he was, you wouldn't put yourself in such a…" a grin worked its way across his face, "vulnerable position."

Stefan chanced a look at the four girls again, half to see the girls' reaction and half to get his eyes off the shimmering sword in front of him, itching to impale his body at any given moment.

"We all know very well what he is, that is why we come," She set her eerie eyes on the unnamed archer behind Mido, holding his bow at the ready, set to fire when and where Mido demanded, "You are all fools. Not one of you truly cares about the welfare of your home; you only thirst for the taste of blood. Such petty creatures you are, finding whomever you can to place the blame for your misfortunes upon and murdering them with no cause."

Deliberately, she tilted her left arm back, and the sleeve fell back to reveal a dark mark swirling across her tanned skin, "You despise us even more than your own kind. You treat us like filth, you say we're unfit to share your land, you hunt us like cattle; you kill us as if we were truly less than you. You think that simply because…" She shook her head and seemed distracted by something, "Believe what you will, human, but you will gain nothing by killing this Forsaken One but your own death in return."

Mido kept his eyes carefully on the Brand on the small girl's hand and motioned silently towards the man behind him. In a fluid motion, the archer lifted his bow and fired his shot at the girl, the arrow flying towards her in a deadly arc. Stefan returned his eyes to Mido's blade hovering at his chest, waiting for the sounds signaling the girl's demise.

After a moment, a shiver traveled down Mido's sword, and he cursed lowly while the almost all the men around him took a step back. The girl's branded arm was raised, her mouth twisted into a dim smile as her eyes watched the pure black bulge rising from the ground in front of her, undulating with invisible power from the single shaft of an arrow embedded in its side.

The darkness condensed and coalesced around the arrow silently, leaving the thin projectile floating in midair coated in the black substance as dark as the girls' hair. Before anyone cold blink—the four strange children included—the arrow of pure night was hovering its lethal point dangerously close to Mido's throat.

"If you value your life despite the ignorance you have shown by underestimating our power," the dark sage said slowly, "you will leave this place now. Do not think I can't kill you, I've no problem slaughtering…" she cocked her head and seemed lost in an unknown place for a moment before continuing, "Make your choice now, and we will allow you and your men to leave… unharmed."

There was only a moment of silence before all the sound of running horses filled the area once more as the men fled the clearing, leaving their makeshift leader behind. Mido's blade slowly and carefully pulled back from Stefan's chest and returned to its sheath, its owner careful not to move his head as he did. Never taking his eyes off of Stefan's, Mido slowly backed away from the clearing and leapt back upon his horse, muttering soft curses under his breath before yanking the beast's reins sharply and galloping back to the village.

Without a word, the violet-cloaked girl lowered her hand, the black magic dissipated from the arrow, and the weapon dropped uselessly to the mossy ground. Stefan looked up from where his would-be murderer had been only moments before to the girl who had saved his life, unable to suppress another groan from the pain running through his back. With a small grunt, she turned towards Stefan and came towards him, her three companions following close behind.

"Turn so I can get to your back," She ordered, and Stefan obeyed without a thought, unsure to be grateful to this girl or to fear her.

There was another sudden flame stabbing at his back as she removed the remains of the arrow shaft, and the Branded had to fight not to reach for his arrow wound again. His shoulder still throbbing with each beat of his heart, Stefan watched the strange girl through the corner of his eye as she pulled her staff in front of her small body, the gem on top already glowing with a dim blue light. Stefan felt his wounds numb and slowly warm as the staff's light increased in intensity. Hardly a moment later, everything faded away. The pain was gone, even the dull ache of an old wound wasn't present. Stefan reached up and felt his shoulder

She offered out her small free hand—her Brand hidden under the dark fabric of her robe once more—to Stefan who took it uncertainly. The girl possessed helped pull Stefan to his feet slowly, the green-haired Branded half expecting for the back to light up in pain once more.

"Are you harmed anywhere else?" the child wearing green asked slowly, possessing the same flat, cold voice as the dark mage's.

Slowly, Stefan nodded, "N-no, I think I'm… fine." He looked at the four girls' faces in turn, "Who are you?"

"We've been taught," the violet-clad girl murmured, "that one is to give their own name before demanding it of another. However, you may be the exception. I," she bent into a half-bow, "am Meg, and these are my sisters, Joelle," the girl with the braid smiled and ducked her head slightly, "Beth," the girl in the dark blue winked, "and Amy." the girl whose clothes blended in with her surroundings smiled and pulled her viridian cloak closer around her narrow shoulders.

"Our leader sent us," Amy murmured, "He said that you would be closer to the village than this, though…" Her odd violet eyes bore into Stefan's teal, as if asking for the answer to some unspoken question.

"It seems our information was not as reliable as we would have liked," Meg said, looking down the path leading to the village.

"So it seems." Meg murmured, "Though, you've yet to tell us your name, you know this, yes?"

"Ah," Stefan said quietly, "My name is Stefan. T-thank you for saving my life, I—"

"You do not need to express your gratitude," Joelle whispered, speaking for the first time in the same even, emotionless tone of her sisters, "We understand."

"Though I hate to be abrupt," Meg said, turning her gaze back to the path behind Stefan, "time is of the essence, and we must leave as soon as possible. The villagers are angry, and will provide resistance if we linger for much longer."

"Wait, what?" Stefan looked back in the same direction as Meg, "You're taking me somewhere?"

"Of course." Meg said, "Did you think we merely saved your life to send you back into the clutches of those _humans_?"

"W-where—"

"Enough questions!" Beth exclaimed, her voice still emotionless, but oddly happy at the same time, "Let us leave this place. All these trees make me long for the desert once more."

"Beth is right," Joelle agreed, "We can explain everything to you on the way to the Grann, but for now, you will have to trust that our intentions are in your best interests, and come with us immediately."

The four sisters turned from the village in unison and began walking, their staves thumping softly against the ground.

"No!" Stefan suddenly protested, causing the four sisters to stop and turn back to face him, "I can't just leave! My mother… They… Mido killed her! I know they won't do anything for her, they'll just leave her to rot!"

"C'est la vie," Beth called back flatly, "If you go back there, you will be killed. You have no reason to throw your life away for the deadafter we so graciously saved it. Come with us, and you may live in peace among your own kind."

"But—"

"Think about it," Beth said, taking a small step forward, "If I assume your mother loved you, yes? More than any one likely ever will. If she were still alive, would she want you to risk your life just to bury her body?"

"But—"

"Are you coming or not?"

Stefan sighed and cast one last glance towards his home, towards everything he had always known. How was he so sure that he could trust these strange girls? It didn't matter either way—he had no home to go to, no family to hold close—everything had been taken away by one man. Grinding his teeth and seething with anger, the orphaned Branded whispered loud enough for only him to hear, "I will come back for you Mido. I will come prepared and ready to stand against you. I will get revenge for my mother's murder. You will pay, I swear to you."

"'Oy, you coming?" Beth and her sisters were further down the path now, with the blue-robed girl walking backwards so as to get a better view of Stefan's progress as he jogged to catch up with them.

With silent approval, Beth slid down the path to leave room for Stefan. As the five Branded walked, the trees grew further apart, and Stefan looked back at his childhood home for the last time for years before turning his mind to the future sprawling itself in front him.

* * *

_Hmm, if I said that I liked this, it would be a lie. Something about it just seems horribly off, really. Oh wells_, _as Beth said, 'C'est la vie', no? _

_I still hope that it was well worth the wait, and I really, REALLY do think that only the next update will be slow, but the rest will come nice and often. More often than every few months, at least... *Sigh* Reviews still make me happy, of course, and make me remember that people read this, and would like to read more of it more often. _

_(Oh, and cookies to whoever can name at least one of the two places where the little girls' names come from).  
_


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